


Green like Home

by goodmorningbaltimoore45



Series: Clexa One Shots [2]
Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Canon Era, F/F, They're both nerds, clarke is struggling, lexa is a soft baby
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-31
Updated: 2016-05-31
Packaged: 2018-07-11 07:27:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,724
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7036144
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/goodmorningbaltimoore45/pseuds/goodmorningbaltimoore45
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>How the Bitanic scene began and what led them there.<br/>(Set before 3x05)<br/>"<em>She doesn’t want to leave the way that Lexa’s eyes burn onto her skin, or the green in her eyes that is starting to feel like home.</em>"</p>
            </blockquote>





	Green like Home

Clarke had missed painting, it was that one constant in her life that she could always run to. The last three months were not exception, even though her drawings no longer depicted earthly terrain but people whom she had loved and lost. The walls of the cave in which she frequented were drawn with Wells, her father, Finn. 

She hadn’t drawn in a while, now that she was living with Lexa in Polis. Her guard had taken her for a stroll along Polis before and she loitered in an art stall, just touching and shooting wistful glances at the thick pieces of parchment paper. The owner had offered her the pieces for free, thanking her in broken English about Mount Weather. _Nomon_ , he said. My mother. 

Clarke’s mouth went dry and she ran back to the tower, hiding tears. She ran into the spacious library, hiding in the corner of the library. She knew Lexa would frequent here and she was halfway hoping and detesting running into her. 

She ignored the calls of her name and retreated further into the dark corner when Lexa called her name. 

“Clarke.” She said. “Clarke.” Clarke closed her eyes, holding her breath. The images of the slain burned onto her brain. She stayed in the library until late into the night, playing with a loose thread from the shirt one of the handmaidens had given her. She burrowed her nose into the material, noticing a familiar smell. 

Lexa, it smelled like Lexa. It smelled like the green of the forest, blood and tears. 

At that, she stood, ready to fall asleep in her warm bed and forget the horrible day she had. She walked quick, head down. She tossed herself onto her bed, not removing her clothes or boots. Something jammed into her ribs and she yelped. Frowning as her hand stained with grey color. 

It was the charcoal from the stand. She sat up, finding more pieces of charcoal and a thick notebook with several sheets of parchment paper. She grit her teeth, angry. 

Clarke stood, grabbing all the materials and ran to Lexa’s room. Her guards were not surprised at the look of anger in her eyes or at the lateness of her visit. 

“What the hell is this?” Clarke hollered, clutching the _gift_ in her hands. Lexa wakes, altered, her hair mussy and frizzy in the moonlight. Clarke hates her for looking like an angel in the dead of night. 

_Angel of Death_ , she tells herself. That’s what Lexa is. 

“Clarke. I do not understand what-” Lexa starts, sitting upright in her bed. 

“Like hell you don’t!” Clarke yells, she steps closer, too close and Lexa watches her with the same confused look. Lexa sighs when the light illuminates the gift in her hands. Her guards rush into the room, no doubt hearing the commotion and Lexa waves them away. She stands, wearing that goddamn gown from before and Clarke harshly swallows at the smooth expanse of her thighs. 

“They are gifts, Clarke. You did not have gifts in the ark?” 

“I know what a fucking gift is, Lexa. That does not mean you have the right to get me one.” She shakes in anger at how calm Lexa looks while her heart beats harsh and heavy. Lexa doesn’t say anything or react and instead she turns, walks over to a water jug by her bed. She pours herself a cup and drinks it slowly. Clarke tries not to stare at the bobbing of her neck, the sharpness of her jaw. 

She fails. 

Finally, she turns towards her. 

“I’m sorry, I thought things were well between us again. I vowed to you, Clarke and I will not betray you again.” She says softly, green eyes and pert lips. Clarke stands still, because things are well between them both but she can’t stop herself from being angry. She can’t stop herself at being torn in two places, Arkadia and Polis. 

Lexa and her people. 

Her people and Lexa. 

Clarke wonders when they’ve both blended into one, when she started caring for Lexa. She wonders when her heart started to feel heavy at the sad look in her eyes. 

She hates Lexa for that, even though it’s not really her fault. Lexa is not forcing her to stay, Lexa is not forcing her to care. Clarke knows that she could return to Arkadia, she would do a helluva lot more there. She could leave Polis, the market, the stall with the pretty papers, Lexa. 

The thing is she doesn’t want to. What started as something for her protection has grown into so much more and it terrifies her. 

It terrifies her that she doesn’t want to leave the tower no matter how fucking cold it is at night, she doesn’t want to leave breakfast with Lexa, who eats in meticulous bites while Clarke stuffs as much food in her mouth. She doesn’t want to leave the way Lexa rolls her eyes at Titus behind his back, how she looks like a girl and not a commander for an instant. She doesn’t want to leave the way that Lexa’s eyes burn onto her skin, or the green in her eyes that is starting to feel like home. 

She doesn’t want to leave Lexa and she _hates_ her for that. She so close to separating herself and returning and fixing everything. Then Lexa pulls shit like this or gives her that doe eyed wounded look and Clarke is back in square one. 

She hates her for standing there so vulnerable, so pretty, so _fuckable_ in the moonlight while Clarke feels broken and feels like she’ll never be whole again. Her must face must betray her emotions because Lexa stiffens and she looks away from Clarke. 

“Very well, then. Leave them on my bed, please.” She says and Clarke almost falls to her knees at the badly hidden emotion in her voice and in the eyes that don’t meet hers. Instead, she throws it on Lexa’s bed and walks out into the hall before she does something stupid like sob. 

In the quietness of her room, she does the stupid thing. She falls asleep and dreams she’s drowning in a sea of green and black. 

\- 

“Lexa.” she says, announcing herself. Lexa turns, fastening her boots. 

“Clarke. How have you managed to sneak into my room without my guards noticing you?” she asks. Clarke doesn’t reply. They both know her guards will always let Clarke into her room, no matter the time. 

“We need to talk.” Lexa sighs at this and finishes fastening her boots. She stays sitting on her bed and raises an eyebrow, mouth set in a line. 

“Are you here to reprimand me for the papers again? Because I have already expressed my apologies-“ 

“No. I’m here to apologize.” Clarke says rapidly before she regrets it and Lexa does a double take, mouth slightly ajar. She steps closer to Lexa’s bed and Lexa eyes her, swallowing. 

“I do not know why-“ 

“Don’t.” Clarke raises her hand, and Lexa nods. Her eyes are still wide and understanding and Clarke grits her teeth. “Thank you for the materials but I will not be taking them.” Lexa nods again and everything sits still and quiet in the room. Clarke itches everywhere and she wants to leave the room. She wants to go back into her and take deep shuddering breaths and she almost does, waiting to turn and leave when Lexa speaks. 

“Someone told me you drew in the walls of the cave you were in. I thought you might want a piece of yourself again, I know how hard it is to lose who you ar--.” Lexa stops, eyes no longer meeting Clarke’s. She almost looks bashful and regretful. _Lose who you are_ , Clarke finishes for her. She softens, remembering Costia and she wonders if Lexa had started to find herself again. 

She goes back to the fierce commander she met before, no longer the girl who sits in front of her. She thinks that yes, Lexa has started to find herself. She wonders what caused it. 

“I did.” Clarke says, Lexa swallows. “I mean, I do draw.” She doesn’t want to ask but finds herself doing so anyways. “You had someone follow me?” she asks, already knowing the answer. Lexa looks at her from under her eyelashes and nods. 

“You were easy to track in the beginning but-“she almost looks proud “you learned to defend and hide yourself. My trackers lost you after a month.” Clarke lets out a quiet sigh, she wonders how Lexa would react if she found out about Niylah. She pushes that thought of out her head as quick as it arrived. 

“I will return them, if my gift offended you Clarke, I’m sorry.” She stops, green eyes finding her blue. The ground finally meeting the sky. 

Clarke eyes the materials sitting on Lexa’s bedside and Clarke find herself walking closer, feet pulling her towards Lexa like a magnet. She stops when she’s less than five feet away and she swears she can see Lexa’s heart thudding in her chest, a harsh surge of panic. Her eyes betray that panic too and Clarke finds herself paralyzed and dizzy. 

She’s forgotten what to say and takes a second trying to remember. 

“You didn’t.” she finally concedes. Lexa grabs the materials and begins to hand them Clarke. Her eyes never leave Clarke’s and Clarke swears she’s gonna catch on fire from the look in her eyes. “Thank you. It-it was a nice idea and I have missed drawing.” Lexa nods again, no longer high strung and closed up, her features are softer and Clarke finds herself drawn to the softened aura around her. 

“Very well, then. I know you will put them to good use.” Lexa says, her fingers run over her cheeks dazedly and leaves a dark streak of charcoal. Clarke almost finds it endearing, _almost_. Lexa stands, clasping her arms behind her back and turns, ready to leave. 

“Maybe I’ll draw you someday.” Clarke finds herself saying and cringes, Lexa stops, all movements stilled, Clarke’s more than sure that her even her heart sits still while hers beats a harsh melody of panic and embarrassment. Lexa turns, swallowing. Her eyes are wide and filled with affection, Clarke’s face heats at the look. 

“You would do that?” she asks softly, Clarke nods, not trusting her voice. “I’ve never had my picture drawn or taken, only that Mount Weather picture from before. I haven’t seen it since then.” Clarke avoids her eyes, feigning interest in the materials in her hands. 

The picture lies in her cave in the woods, hidden underneath a rubble of rock. She never destroyed it, unable to. After many attempts, Clarke kept it as a semblance and remembrance of the look of her enemy. Or so she told herself. 

“Yes. A payback for the materials.” She says and Lexa looks away from her at that. 

“Will you join me for breakfast, Clarke?” 

“I think I’ll eat in my room today.” Clarke says, hands itching to draw. Lexa looks hurt for a second before her face goes blank. Clarke hurries to fix it, cursing herself at the same time. “I’ll meet you after your meeting. Here, if you want. I found a book in the library that I think you’d like.” 

“Yes. That sounds-“Lexa starts and she shakes her head a little. She starts again. “I’ll see you here, Clarke.” 

\- 

“Clarke?” someone nudges her and Clarke pushes them away, sleep clouding her brain. “Clarke.” the voice says in a softer timbre and Clarke opens her eyes at that, sitting up. 

“Lexa.” she says in realization, she looks around the room, recognizing she fell asleep on Lexa’s bed. “Sorry, I started to draw and never left.” 

“It’s fine, Clarke. I’m happy you’ve rested.” Lexa says, her knee sits on one side on Clarke, while her other stays standing. Clarke looks awkwardly at how close Lexa is and Lexa flies off the bed, clasping her arms behind her back. “Have you eaten?” 

“Yes. Your handmaiden brought me some fruit.” Lexa nods. Clarke turns to find the notebook and clutches it to her chest. One of the pages falls and lands next to Lexa’s foot. 

“May I?” Lexa asks and Clarke nods. Lexa picks it up, her eyes marveling at the drawing. “You are very good. Who is this?” 

“Wells. He was my best friend.” 

“He came down here?” 

“Yes. He was killed because his father was the chancellor. He was kind. He lied to me to protect me. He lied to me so I wouldn’t hate my mother, I hated him for years for that. I found out the truth and he died a few days later.” Lexa swallows and looks down at the image again. 

“He was in love with you.” Lexa says and Clarke shrugs at that. Wells’ never hid his affections towards her but she’d be lying if she didn’t love him a little, too. 

“He was my best friend.” Clarke says simply, Lexa hands her the drawing back. “He had a compassionate soul, nothing like his father. He believed in mercy and forgiveness. He would’ve liked you.” Lexa stills, lips quirking into a small smile. “I miss him. I wish he was here during Mount Weather he would’ve-“she stops, unable to speak and Lexa nods in understanding. 

“You have a book for me?” Lexa asks, changing the subject. 

“Yes. It’s in my room. I’ll be back." she announces, she takes the notebook with her clutching it to her chest. She finds the book and runs back to Lexa’s room, where she stands by her bed, not moving an inch. She hands the book to her. “We had it up in the ark, my dad used to read it to me when I was younger.” 

“Thank you.” Lexa replies, her eyes softening greatly at Clarke’s mention of her father. She doesn’t know the real story but she guesses it does not have a good ending at the look in her eyes. “Anya used to read to me. She is the one who taught me to read.” 

“You don’t have schools here?” Clarke asks, settling down on the sofa, Lexa sits on the loveseat to her left. 

“No. Reading is not something that’s greatly beneficial. Anya’s grandmother was alive before the bombs and she taught Anya’s mother, who in turn taught her. Anya would say that a true commander needs to know more than her subjects. I am the first commander who knows how to read and write. When I became commander she made sure I continued to read.” Lexa smiles wistfully “She was a harsh teacher, she wasn’t always so pleasant.” Clarke snorts at that. 

“She smacked my face with mud once.” Lexa chuckles at that. 

“I would’ve liked to see that.” 

“I bested her in a fight, too.” 

“I assume she was angry at that.” 

“Yes.” Clarke grins and Lexa smiles back. Clarke looks down awkwardly, the smile feeling weird in her mouth. She remembers the last time she smiled, in the confines in her room with Lexa. She feels strange remembering that. The relief of Lexa’s life had caused that smile. She had smiled in her room after Lexa’s vow, too. She’d never admit at the childish giggle she let out in her room, she blamed it on the stress from her people and the relief over the alliance with Lexa. 

Now, she tries to think about why she’s smiling and all she manages to think about is Lexa. 

Lexa, sitting there, still staring, smiling, green eyes soft and calm. She looks at her again and Lexa’s smile turns bashful, being caught staring. Clarke hides her own smile, too. She begins to sketch and Lexa adjusts herself to lay down. Within minutes, she’s asleep. Clarke thinks about how domestic this feels. She wonders where she’d be if Lexa hadn’t offered her protection. She has trouble materializing that thought. 

Clarke finds her doodles turning into plump lips, a thin nose and braided hair. 

She stops. She glances at sleeping Lexa next to her and she begins to draw again. It would be her little secret, it’s not like Lexa would see anyways. She ignores the other side of her brain that tells her that maybe it’s more than that.


End file.
